Writings / Fiction: John Tavares

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Spread the love

“Dispute resolution? What? I never had any dispute with the insurance company.”

“That’s because I went to bat for you. The insurance company said they can’t make a payout for Hakan’s death.”

“They can’t? I didn’t even know they had insurance for him.”

“You had the prescience to get insurance; you knew he could be destructive.”

“Now that you mention it-yes. I was afraid something might happen.”

“The insurance company said they’ll pay for the value of the house.” Enola busily ruffled the letters and papers. “But their lawyer wrote there is no legal evidence Hakan died in the fire.”

“Well, what happened to him? The house burns down, I could hear his screams—”

“Why would a boy want to die in a fire he started in the house where he lived? I think I know the answer, but I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Because he was possessed by the devil. For Christ’s sake, Enola, he was self-destructive and impulsive.”

“You’re certain he started the fire?”

“I think even the fire marshal agreed it was arson, started by Hakan exactly how I indicated.” Carlos glanced at the newspaper clippings about the fire Enola had insisted leaving at his hospital bedside and which a nurse had read to him. “He didn’t accuse Hakan, though – nobody did. You’re not suggesting I committed arson, are you?”

“No, of course not, and what you say might make sense, if they could find any evidence of Hakan.”

“Trust me. It doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

“I’m beginning to think he was so badly burned he didn’t leave behind a single molecule. He was incinerated, vaporized.”
“I still think he escaped.”

“An eleven year old boy escapes a fire and runs away and survives in the bushes around town, alone, unassisted.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s in his blood.”

Enola stood and kissed him on the cheek before she left the hospital room when a nurse arrived with a crew of student nurses to change his dressings and bandages.

Later, as Carlos looked out the hospital room through the open door he caught a glimpse of Hakan. His jeans were torn and faded and his t-shirt was grimy with dirt. His face, tanned from the sun and flecked and caked, bore scratches and scars, but he looked relaxed and bore the most soothing expression on his face. The boy looked serene, as if he had found spiritual enlightenment, inner peace, self-fulfillment. Hakan lingered a moment and smiled through the grit and charcoal that marked his face and then continued walking down the hospital corridor past Carlos’ doorway. Carlos somehow managed to lift himself from his hospital bed and wheeled his injured body to the corridor. He pushed himself in the wheelchair around the ward, which was shaped like a square, and even entered the lobby of a hospital but he found Hakan nowhere. “Hakan!” he shouted. A nurse spotted the distressed look on his face and thought he was traumatized or in severe pain. The boy was gone, and the nurse pushed Carlos in a wheelchair back to his hospital room and bed.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Leave A Comment...

*